What Remains Unchanged

Perhaps because he had studied and practiced a bit at home, the drone training wasn't as difficult as he had expected. The written exam, in particular, used a question-bank system with a passing rate of around sixty percent, meaning anyone could pass with just a little studying. It seemed about as easy as a driver's license written test.

"You can come back at the same time tomorrow to fill your remaining flight hours. The written exam is next Wednesday."

"Understood."

Jun-ho nodded at the instructor's words. He had expected to be nervous since it was his first time, but the atmosphere was relaxed and the curriculum was straightforward. To obtain a Category 3 drone license, all one had to do was pass the written exam and complete six hours of flight training at an academy like this. He had initially planned to get a Category 2 license, but that required significantly more flight hours and a tricky practical test. Considering the cost, time, and difficulty, he had pivoted to Category 3.

Honestly, it wouldn't really matter even if I didn't get it...

Once the shelter was completed, he would be flying drones frequently. To prepare for any potential issues or flying outside authorized zones, having at least a Category 3 license felt like the safest bet. It was best to eliminate any excuse for people to pry. After spending the afternoon at the drone training center, the brothers finished their daily routine and returned home.

After an early dinner, Jun-hyuk announced he was heading to his MMA gym, and Jun-ho headed down to the basement out of habit. There was still so much to learn, and a mountain of information to research beforehand. There was a massive gulf between merely planning something in his head and actually bringing it to life. However...

"...Even so, I never dreamed I'd be researching septic tank systems."

Jun-ho knew all too well how critical wastewater treatment was for a survival base in the apocalypse. Initially, he had simply thought of installing a massive septic tank that could hold years of sludge without a hitch. But he quickly realized that wouldn't be nearly enough. In South Korea, you couldn't even get a building permit if your wastewater treatment facilities didn't meet the strict legal standards. Moreover, the shelter Jun-ho was planning was designed for a scenario where all societal infrastructure had collapsed. This meant the shelter had to purify its own wastewater internally, treat it cleanly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠according to Ministry of Environment standards, and then discharge it. He needed a completely self-sustaining system that could even process the sludge on its own.

"Hmm. Do I have to construct an artificial wetland for the final discharge?"

In reality, that seemed to be the only way. The site Jun-ho had chosen for the shelter was in an isolated area with no connection to the public sewer system. Therefore, he had to build an independent wastewater treatment system that met the Ministry of Environment's standards from the very beginning.

After reading through the relevant laws for a few more minutes, Jun-ho muttered,

"Forget it."

Why?

"Money solves everything anyway."

To hell with sludge processing and artificial wetlands; he could just throw money at the problem and install a high-end, fully automated system. Who in their right mind would pour hundreds of millions of won into septic tanks and sewage treatment just to build a single structure in the middle of nowhere? Yep, that's me. Once he looked at it that way, his mind eased regarding the other issues. And among those issues, the most important was the shelter's location.

"Sky Forest Campsite."

Located in Namyangju, Gyeonggi Province, it was the place where Jun-ho had stayed the longest during his solitary wanderings. It was incredibly remote, with only a single road connecting it to the outside world. Its terrible accessibility was actually its greatest strength. Jun-ho had stumbled upon it purely by chance. If food hadn't been an issue, he probably would have stayed there indefinitely. The buildings were structurally sound, and the entire area was surrounded by mountains. Moreover, it completely solved the issue of drinking water, which was just as vital as food in the apocalypse. But most importantly...

"Even before the apocalypse... it had been abandoned for years."

It wasn't just the campsite; the entire surrounding area was completely deserted. During his previous life, he had thoroughly searched the vicinity for days and found no signs of human habitation, let alone zombies or corpses. In other words, the campsite and its one-kilometer radius had been an isolated safe zone even before the apocalypse. Jun-ho pulled up a search portal.

"Sky Forest Campsite. Namyangju... here it is."

There were many campsites with that name across the country, but only one in Namyangju. However, it didn't show up on standard map apps, meaning it had already gone out of business. Jun-ho entered the parcel number to search for auction listings. After a few clicks, a familiar map screen appeared. It was just as he expected. The previous tenant had apparently been hit hard by the pandemic, went bankrupt, and abandoned the business, leaving the property to go under the hammer. While the land and buildings belonged to the local municipality, the private operator who held the usage rights had defaulted on their debts, leading to a tangled web of lawsuits. Ultimately, the municipality terminated the lease, and creditors filed claims for the return of the lease deposit, and so on and so forth...

"Fortunately, since the land itself belongs to the municipality... everything should be cleared up once the lawsuits are settled."

Jun-ho carefully read through the auction property details.

"No occupants, immediate transfer of possession possible."

As expected, no one had lived on the campsite grounds for a very long time. The auction had already failed to attract bidders several times, driving the minimum bid down, and the next bidding round was about three weeks away. However, Jun-ho knew that it wouldn't be sold then either.

"Assuming I win the bid by April at the earliest, or June at the latest..."

Since it was municipal property, the administrative procedures would be tedious, and it would take a few more months before it officially became "his land." It was a headache-inducing situation. Yet, Jun-ho wasn't worried at all.

"Money can solve this too."

He knew a lawyer who was exceptionally skilled at navigating these kinds of legal loopholes. Naturally, it was someone he had met during the apocalypse before his regression.

"Lee Dong-cheol. He must be running his firm in Busan right now, eyes wide open for any lucrative opportunity."

He hadn't particularly liked the man, but since his money would become worthless paper once the world ended anyway, he might as well let the guy make some of it beforehand.

"Namyangju? Why Namyangju of all places? Isn't it too far? Actually, if we're only talking about safety, wouldn't some deep mountain valley in Gangwon or Gyeongsang Province be better?"

Jun-hyuk, who had just returned from his workout, tilted his head in confusion at his older brother. Despite having eaten dinner only a few hours ago, Jun-ho had ordered a two-chicken combo and was currently tearing into a drumstick with gusto.

"That's what most people think. But the deep countryside won't work. Getting permits to build something on the scale I'm planning is incredibly tight. Gangwon Province, in particular, has brutal regulations."

"Really? But didn't you say you were going to buy an abandoned school at auction? Aren't there way more abandoned schools in the provinces?"

"True. But here's the thing."

Picking up a piece of spicy soy sauce chicken this time, Jun-ho continued.

"First of all, abandoned schools with a location as perfect as the one I've chosen are rare. And think about it—if you start a project worth billions, or even tens of billions of won, in a sparsely populated rural town, you'll instantly become the center of attention. The entire region will be dying to know what we're up to."

"Is that so?"

At twenty-two, Jun-hyuk was still naive to the ways of the world, and his expression showed he didn't quite grasp it. Jun-ho nodded and elaborated.

"Yeah. Local influential figures, politicians, civil servants, and even the villagers themselves. They'll be snooping around every single day to see what an outsider is doing. And it won't just be out of curiosity—they'll be looking for any excuse to squeeze money out of us."

"Ah..."

"On top of that, if the outsiders throwing money around are just a couple of green twenty-somethings who don't know how the world works? The locals will collude to eat us alive."

"I guess you're right."

Recalling the horror stories of rural gatekeeping he had read online, Jun-hyuk nodded in agreement.

"So Namyangju is better? I've never even been there."

"Much better. First of all, it's still part of the metropolitan area, and the population is over seven hundred thousand. Plus, it's massive."

"Really?"

Watching his brother eat with such relish had whetted Jun-hyuk's appetite. He grabbed a piece of chicken and searched for Namyangju on his smartphone.

"Whoa...!"

Even a cursory glance showed it was easily seven or eight times larger than Bucheon.

"In a city the size of Namyangju, whatever we do won't stand out that much. And like I said, that campsite and the entire surrounding area were completely uninhabited even before the apocalypse."

"And as I saw today, it's already gone to auction."

"Exactly. It's the perfect site for our shelter."

"Yeah. I just... thought the south might be better. You know, in movies or webtoons, whenever a major disaster strikes Korea, everyone flees to the south."

"That's exactly why we have to build our shelter at the Sky Forest Campsite."

"Huh...?"

Jun-hyuk tilted his head at the counterintuitive logic. Having demolished his share of the chicken in just ten minutes, Jun-ho poured a glass of Zero Coke to the brim and spoke.

"Just as you said, in the early days of the apocalypse, everyone fled south. People from Seoul and the metropolitan area packed up and swarmed into places like Suwon, Yongin, and Osan. And what do you think happened then?"

"...Ah!"

"Exactly. It was hell. We're not talking about thousands or tens of thousands, but hundreds of thousands. Or was it in the millions? Either way, how could those cities possibly handle that many people? Infections kept breaking out, supplies ran dry... Eventually, they pushed further down to Sejong and Daejeon."

"And... what happened after that?"

"According to survivors who came up from there later, even the government gave up. The military's top priority was securing the shipyards, steel mills, and nuclear power plants in South Gyeongsang and South Jeolla Provinces, so the central inland regions were practically abandoned."

"No way..."

"So the refugees split into dozens of factions, fighting each other in absolute chaos. They resented the government and the military... and eventually came to view them as mortal enemies."

"That's insane."

"Yeah, it was insane. That's why you must never go south. The metropolitan area—not right next to Seoul, but slightly removed from it—is best. If you're too close to Seoul, the place will be crawling with zombies and raiders."

"Slightly removed..."

"Yeah. That's why Namyangju or Gyeonggi Gwangju are the best options. But Gwangju is south of the Han River, so we'll pass on that for now. Namyangju is somewhat close to Seoul, but it's north of the Han River and incredibly vast. It's almost the size of Seoul in terms of land area, but has less than a tenth of the population. Plus, it's surrounded by mountains, making travel difficult."

"I see. Namyangju, Namyangju..."

Finally convinced, Jun-hyuk toggled between the aerial and street views of the site his brother had chosen.

"But Hyung, this abandoned school? The campsite? It's actually pretty big."

"Right? I thought it was spacious when I stayed there briefly, too. But when I measured the distance on the aerial view, the school building alone is almost fifty meters long, even though it was just a branch school. There's a separate warehouse and teacher's quarters, and even a newly built cafeteria building from when it was run as a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠campsite. The utility is incredible."

During his stay there before his regression, Jun-ho had gradually fleshed out his vague concepts for the shelter. Where and how many solar panels to install, how many rooms to build and where, how to utilize auxiliary buildings like the warehouse and cafeteria, and so on. And now, as he verified the exact dimensions and remaining facilities of the Sky Forest Campsite on the map, his plans were becoming increasingly concrete.

I need to experiment and practice as much as possible in this house. That's the only way to minimize mistakes when we move to the actual shelter.

"But Hyung, what's this about having to go to Busan?"

Jun-hyuk's question snapped Jun-ho out of his thoughts.

"I need to meet someone. Anyway... I'll tell you about it later. It's not happening right away, probably in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠few months, so don't worry about it."

"Okay."

Seeing Jun-ho's expression suddenly turn somber, Jun-hyuk didn't press further. In truth, he was dying of curiosity. He wanted to know what on earth had happened in his brother's prophetic dream, who this person in Busan was, and what exactly had transpired. Especially...

He hasn't mentioned me even once.

Indeed. Whenever his brother spoke of his prophetic dreams, he never uttered a single word about what had happened to Jun-hyuk. But Jun-hyuk could guess.

That night, when Hyung woke up to drink water and looked at me...

The look in his brother's eyes back then. At the time, he had no idea what was going on and thought his brother had lost his mind, but thinking back on it now...

It was so incredibly tender. Like he was looking at someone who had returned from the dead.

The moment he realized that a few days ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ago, a chill had run down his spine. In his brother's dream, he must have died. Or turned into a zombie.

No way! That won't happen now. Because I'm going to the shelter with Hyung.

Jun-hyuk shook off the grim thoughts and steeled his resolve. With his brother, who had already experienced the future in his dreams, they could endure and overcome whatever came their way.

"Hey, what the hell! Hyung, this is crossing the line. Eating both drumsticks is a crime against humanity. Is your character for real?"

"What? You said you weren't going to eat, you punk."

"I was saving it for tomorrow morning! Don't you know cold chicken is god-tier?"

"How should I know? We can just order another one, you idiot."

Jun-ho sheepishly tapped on his smartphone to order more, while Jun-hyuk playfully nagged him. No matter how much the future changed, the bond between the two brothers would remain constant.